


Contemplations

by ShippyAngel



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s10e20 Unending, F/M, Stargate SG-1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippyAngel/pseuds/ShippyAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could have happened during "Unending"...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, I'm just playing with them. No copyright infringement is intended (honestly, would anyone actually buy to read this stuff? aw, come on!). All publicly are the property of their respective owners and I'm no way related to them.

Her eyes are burning.

She's always been a good woman; anyone could see that. She was just like her mother: big blue eyes, as deep as the ocean, sometimes mysterious, other time simply strong and unpredictable. Long fingers and soft hands. She was faithful. She was patient enough to organize her books and records alphabetically. She ate chocolate ice-cream when she was feeling down.

She had always loved numbers, was always the best student in the class. She never gave up; in fact, she had a tendency to become obsessed over something she really wanted. She had this unexplained passion for motorcycles, the speed made her blood run faster, made her feel alive.

She was once a sweet and curious girl, who shook during her first kiss; shy and uncertain. She remembers how her mom used to giggle during her "what, how and why" phase: 'why the sky is blue and the moon is white, why do my fingers shrink when I shower, what is blue jello made of, how much is two thousand multiplied by the infinite?', she remember her mom's silence when she asked 'why is dad never home?'. Too many questions but never enough answers. She learned to seek her owns but many remained unknown. She remembers Halloweens and snowball-fights with her brother. She closes her eyes and swears she can almost feel the wind on her face as when her father used to swing her in the air. Her ribs hurting from laughing so hard. She misses that and so many other things. But now she knows how to move on. At least, she thinks she does.

She spent half of her teenage years trying to convince herself that she was just an ordinary girl. But there was no use; everybody kept staring at her, saying she must have come from Mars. She was the orator of the class anyway, because everybody loved her. She was talk-ative when she was nervous, she blushed easily. Her friends said she was different. And she was. A special kind of it.

But she changed. She couldn't remember exactly how it happened, or even when. She just did. One day she woke up and she wasn't scared anymore; she was ready to face the world.

She found herself staring at the ship's glass and she saw a woman around her forties. Single. Who worked and had a tendency to overthink and now wanted to have a family of her own. Was she too late? She saw a woman who passed out the first time she shot somebody. A woman who had fifteen different kinds of smiles and a sad look; a constantly sad look that had always hunted her... until the day she met him. 

Now, she risked her life for anyone, if not everyone. They wouldn't know that, though. The world would probably never get to see what they gave up for and she would never let herself regret that.

She was a woman with a curvy body marked with scars over here or there; who made the men fall for her without having the intention to love them back. A woman full of regrets. She hated to cry, so she bit her lips and closed the eyes to keep the tears from falling down. She couldn't stand feeling weak. She was always so ashamed to show her feelings, to even feeling them. She didn't know how to love,[; and when it happened, she just did it.

A woman with an intense suppressed feeling inside that was only hers to carry. A painful, sometimes silly, never-ending love that had lived within her for years, without being allowed to express itself. A love that she didn't know how to stop from growing.

A love that had a name, a last name with 2 L's and a pair of chocolate eyes.

She felt like she was going to explode whenever she was far from him; like then. She felt empty without him and couldn't find reasons why to smile; her body felt cold. God. She'd give anything she had just to be near him. She was certain that just a touch of him would warm her up; that just one look would bring her back to life. Memories were floating through her mind, making her want to scream and run to find him as soon as possible.

Staring at two colliding stars, she wondered if he would hold her hand while watching the breathless scene or if he would ignore it just to kiss her lips. Lips that are trembling, that know his taste by heart. Lips that left too many confessions unspoken.

Did he know them? What would be doing while her soul was aching for him? What was he thinking about? Was he missing her like she missed him? Too many questions, again. That sad look is back, as well. She rises her shaking hand and press it to her chest, she wants to open her eyes and found them staring into his.

No such luck. She's looking at her reflection once again.

A tear threatened to fall and she let it. He was the only one who could make her feel like that, who could make her let go. He made her find her truly self. She's sobbing now and she hopes no one comes looking for her.

He was the one. There was no doubt about it.


	2. Jack

He has always been a man with a great heart, though he tried to fool everybody with a rough tone of voice. Brown eyes, which were as strong as the sun, and an envious tanned skin. He had calloused hands, long fingers and a short silver hair. His body was marked with well-defined muscles and many scars. He broke several bones, several times and for several reasons. He was a fighter and he thought that was all he was. 

(He was wrong.)

He was apparently tough. Grumpy. But anyone who spent more than a moment with him could feel his kindness and would try to keep him close forever. He would never understand why though. He had a very particular sense of humor: dark and sarcastic. But that was him and it made people laugh.

He had a broken heart and no dreams; not anymore. At least not before he met her. In his intimate thoughts, he carried an unresolved guilty, one that would never cease. It was an emptiness that hurt everyday, like he had lost a member of his body, of his soul. He did, actually. He lost a son and he would never get over it. He didn't want to. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

Most of the time, he wanted to stay away from people. He hated parties and crowds. He couldn't stand formalities and diplomacy or having to wear dress blues. He did it anyway because his job required it, because he was the best in what he did.

He was a great soldier.

But there was also another side of him, one that few people knew, because he wouldn't show and they wouldn't stick with him long enough to find out. Despite of everything he had seen in his life, he was still generous. He was determined to get what he wanted and he shared everything that he got. He had a warm, comforting smile. A rare but beautiful laugh. He had a special connection with kids. And dogs.

He was addicted to cold beers and treated his Simpsons' DVD collection very carefully. He enjoyed playing dumb, but his IQ was almost as high as Carter's. He loved and actually understood Astronomy. He was respected and appreciated but he was also way too humble to take advantage of it. He was one of the many, but one of the few as well.

He loved fishing simply for the fact that it brought childhood memories. He was lonely, though he was popular wherever he was. He was a paradox himself. He was charming and attracted women without even wanting to, because when a man loses his child, he doesn't think about making friends or charming women's hearts. He was caring with the ones he loved and hated seeing them cry.

He never left anyone behind; he would die if he had to. Die for people under his command and for the ones he didn't even know. The people without a face, different from the ones who had chased him in his nightmares, claiming that he had taken their lives away. Well, he had. He learned how to shoot when he was 10 years old. He loved guns even before he loved girls. Now, if he could, he would have thrown them all in the sea. He would forget how to shoot; he would never have killed a man. But he couldn't go back and fix things, so he moved on as he could.

And when she came into that room.... Damn. His body reacted in an unexpected way. He froze. He wanted to keep her and he wanted to push her away at the same time. He did neither; he just stood around, feeling her presence wake him back to life, admiring her body and her personality. She was from another world. But then again, he didn't feel very human either.

She made him happy again and there was nothing he could do but love her. He tried to stop, to distance himself, but it was stronger than him. All efforts in vain, he kept coming back to her.

He looked up and, watching the stars, he tried to fool his senses, to pretend she was closer somehow. He saw something interesting but way too far to be visible, maybe two stars were colliding. The universe was so broad and he felt at bay, lost, desperate without her. He wondered what she would say if she was there sharing the view, if she would techno-babble him. He asked himself what he would be able to do just to see her eyes shinning, her lips swollen from their kisses.

And maybe all the things he could never say would be released from his chest. Would she believe them? Would he be able to say them out loud if she was there? Damn, he thought he'd forget every single word and time would just stop. His legs would fail him. But he would have held her and hidden his face in her hair. He could hide there forever, if possible.

He inhaled deeply but didn't smell her shampoo scent in the air. His hands sought her skin but only found the fitted carpet. Even if he wanted to and tried harder, the memories wouldn't go away. He didn't want them to, he needed more of them to keep his sane in those endless nights without her. He felt like screaming, he decided that would have gone to hell to get her back to his arms. The thing was: he didn't know where to go.

Where was she? Was she thinking of him? He closed his eyes and felt his right hand tremble as they put some classic music on.

He wanted her more than anything. Wanted, loved and needed. Period.


	3. Sam and Jack: The answer

 

She always felt like something was missing.  _There's an answer for that, there has to be_ , she used to think. But the years went by and she decided to throw the questions somewhere below her old files in the loft. She buried it inside of herself, with everything else that couldn't be fixed within a equation. She tried, she really did, but never found the damn answer. She couldn't even explain what it was, where it came from and nothing could make it go away.

It was the feeling that you could never be completed, you know that feeling? Maybe you don't. She certainly didn't. But she felt it.

It was just like that... Until her eyes met his for the very first time. Then a whole lot of things started to make sense - things that weren't logic, things that didn't come with numbers. Subjetive things that had always scared her. He was intriguing and different from everything and everyone she had known so far.

And she thought, four years later, that she could really love him if they were allowed. But it was so inapropriated that she had to lock those thoughts in a room. She made her choice: unfolded their hands and kept hers far from his. Her mind screaming "this is the right thing to do" while her heart clenched. She never listened to her heart, though. She's not that type of woman.

She ended up realizing that it hurt more than bullets. The denial, the pretending. She was just a woman that had never really allowed herself to live. Or to love. They weren't that different in the end. No.

The years passed. Ten long years. The room was unlocking by itself. She wasn't over him, she never would be.

The door was wide open.

So one day they were there: finally alone, finally allowed. Fears and desires floating in the air, but only until the space between them diseappeared. It finally did. And everything was out of the room. God, she had never felt so complete and happy before.

Closing her eyes, she remembers how just staring into his chestnut eyes felt good. She remembers listening to his breathing, feeling his heartbeats underneath her fingertips. Every second was just so precious: just Sam and Jack being together.

Just Sam and Jack.

Now she plays the cello to ease the emptiness running throught her veins, to keep her thoughts of him. To keep her sane. Where was the answer she had been looking for so long? After so many years, she still didn't know -- did she?  **  
**

Well, she knew _him_. It wasn't just about how handsome he looked, it was every little thing about him - things that she was proud to think she was the only one to know that good: his smile and every inch of his body, the lines on his face, his sense of humor, his moods and how to break them, his dedication for others, both his sweaty and after-shave smell, the scars that marked his athletic body. She knew the sound of his snoring, she missed it when she was alone. She's alone now. Lonely, even. And she's missing him.

But was he listening to her play the cello? Even light-years away? She'd rather think so, not matter how illogical, because he was the one she was playing for.

She closes her eyes. He was there. She feels him. She listens to him.

He was there, just as simple and rare as it may sound. She closed her eyes one more time and could almost feel him there. He said would always be there. He was, somehow. She felt it. She just did.

And it was just light-years away from him that she realized that she didn't have to search anymore. And, no, he didn't make her find her answer.

He  _was_  the answer.


	4. Jack and Sam: The question

There was a damn question poisoning in the tip of his tongue.  _Say it already, man!_ , his mind screamed. He was old enough to have regrets but he kept behaving like a teenager. He was almost sure she was suspicious. It was her fault if he wanted to call her every minute; it was her own fault if he had stayed last week stopping in the front of the mirror just to see what he would look like while saying the question or thinking which tone of voice to use.

And then he remembers just how he got there... He remembers how it all started.

He just had to learn how to love silently, slowly. Though sometimes the will to yell his love for her was almost unstoppable, he shut it down. He never thought he could stay inside the lines. He wasn't that kind of man. But he did it. Yes, his respect for her was that great.

And, well, since words could not be said, there was that feeling inside of him. One that grew everyday... Someday he finally understood that it would never stop growing no matter how he tried. And that was when he started fighting for her; fighting for her love. He didn't know it -- but that battle was already won. He figured it out in the end. And it was worth waiting, though it wasn't easy.

She had a natural shine so bright that he had no choice but to go to her. Not that she expected him to, not that she had ever asked anything of him, but he wanted to surprise her, so he started planning: a peaceful place, with candlelight and roses, salty sand underneath their feet. Closing his eyes he can almost hear the waves and feel her presence right beside him. He would even wear a tuxedo. Only for her. Or would that be too cliche?

Ugh, how he hated cliches.

He'd rather have it the simple way, but she deserved better, didn't she? Hmm, maybe he could show her when she woke up.  _Arg, no, that would be waaay too simple._ Then what? To hide it in a cake?  _Crap, no. She would laugh at you, you idiot_.

It didn't really matter how or when. He understood that when he last saw her. She - standing on his doorway, staring at him as if she was studying his soul through his eyes, as if she knew it was the last time they would see each other. When he closes his eyes he remembers what she looked like, the sun marking her curves and making her hair glow; yup, she was definitely reading his soul. Everything. She was saying goodbye. Hell, and that smile playing on her lips, one that he tried to erase with a kiss. But it remained there. That sad smile he hated so badly.

It was the moment, right then. He wanted to ask her: nothing planned, no romantic moods, no excuses anymore - just being Jack and Sam.

God, just Jack and Sam.

He liked the sound of that.

He didn't ask her, though.

Listening to a music on the radio, he identifies it as a cello solo. And he can almost feel her there, looking right through him again, making him uncertain again. His right hand is shaking and then he feels the velvet box beneath his fingertips. He takes it off his pocket, opens it and sees the diamond shining. He takes it and it feels so cold.

_You coward! It was supposed to be hers; it was supposed to be around her finger._

He caresses it with an affection he couldn't remember feeling ever before.

The questions remains stuck on his throat. Will it ever leave? The thought itself tastes just as bitter as the possibility of never seeing her again. But the music playing brings him patience, makes him breathe deeper. Otherwise, he will just get mad. Or worst. Again.

Destinated to fail, again.

But there was hope. Almost certainty. And it was for the second time in his whole life that he understood that there was some kind of life behind everything. This constant force in his mind, screaming that there was no reason to be afraid to live. To give in. Because she would be back into his arms. She would.

The words unsaid. The words she deserved to hear, the ones he wanted so badly to say.

Someday, she would know his unnasked question:

_Samantha Carter, will you marry me?_


	5. Them (and one hundred days again)

She hears a noise and opens her eyes. It's all darker and colder; her knees are frozen, she feels it within her palms, trying to warm them up.

She is so lost among her thoughts that she can't be too sure, but she's heard something. And apart from this fact, there's a vivid impression that everything has happened before: lying in that bed, feeling empty, watching the shadows in the celling... and flashes. Flashes of a dream she must have had, one that showed that everybody was older, including her. Much much older. Her bones hurt and her hair was all gray. She was dying and it all felt so real.

She listens to a sound, but it's a different kind. Are those... steps?

A sudden strenght takes over her. She stands fast and goes running to the main hall, where she finds the rest of the team just as surprised as she is.

"Did you hear that?"

Everybody nods at once. Nobody has the ability to pronounce a word. Is it hope? When was the last time they felt it before? They lost count.

The steps getting louder... closer.

Vala is grinning, holding Daniel's hand as if she is going to rip it off. He doesn't feel it though, he is just as happy.

And they want to move towards the sound, but they can't quite identify where it comes from because the beats of their hearts are too loud in their ears.

And that is when she sees him. Just like the first time, there she stands, hypnotized. Has the time just stopped once again?

His face shows naked concern and he is sweaty from the run. Many people come along with him, but she doesn't see them. No crowds, just him - coming back to get her, coming back to  _her_.

His long legs feel like they don't belong to him anymore. And, for the second time in his life, he lost the ability to walk; as when Charlie tried to reach him with his baby arms for the very first time.

It all seems to happen in slow motion.

Her blue eyes shinning again, shinning for  _him_. And then he feels like his heart is beating once more, a smile of relief is released without his consentiment. But he doesn't care. She is there, she is  _right_  there!

Though the incredibility of it all stuns them, the distance in-between is heartbreaking. How long has it been, since the last time? How many hours, minutes or...? Well, who knows? Who would count it? Oh, please.

They are there. Within reach. And this all that matters.

He takes the first steps, she takes the last ones: just like when they got together. Just like that last morning when she tried to leave her place and he stopped her by holding her neck with his right hand and whispering " _You better get back to me"_. Their eyes connected and that feeling she had... that sad smile that scaped from her lips.

There they are. Just one step closer. Just one. They both take it while everybody just watch it, mesmorized.

His gun drops and he holds her body, tight. So tight, that, for a moment, he thinks he might suffocate her. But he doesn't care about it when her scent invades his personal space. Her body is shaking, relying on his and  _god_  he is there to hold her, to tell her that everything will be okay at last.

She hides her face on his neck, smelling him, wetting his skin with crystal tears. Breathing him in and warming up, finally warming up.

"You came... You..." her voice is full of emotion.

"I said  _always_." he stops her middle-sentenced. "Always."

"God, Jack." she laughs, crying. So paradoxical and so true."You're here. I wanted to much for you to b..."

"I thought I was going to lose you forever. I couldn't stand that and I..."

He holds her face with both hands as they contemplate each others gaze.

Just contemplating what words cannot say, what human eyes cannot believe in.

His usually controlled fear of losing people betraying him.  _How long_ , his eyes ask. She closes hers as if listening to him or calculating what to answer. She feels his breath on her face better like this.

"Do you know what you did to me?" he asks, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. She opens her eyes. "Do you?" She blinks. Blue eyes mixing with brown. "100 fucking days."

"2400 hours." she says, surprising everybody, but him. "144000 long minutes."

"6840000 god-damn seconds."  _that_  surprises her. Jack O'Neill doing calculations?

"Who are you and what did you do to  _my_ Jack O'Neill?"

"6840001..." he says back, laughing, his eyes darkening for the adjetive she used. And if he could take her right there, he would.

"6840002, now..." she teases back and he smirks. God,  _that_  smirk.

"6840003, actually."

"You stubborn, arrogant, son of a bi..."

And he stops her by finally letting their lips touch. Lips that know what to do, even after so much time being apart.

Vala hugs Daniel as he screams to Teal'c " _I knew it! I just knew it!_ ", Cameron gasps and Teal'c smile in the corner of his mouth a tiny smile.

Sam and Jack walk towards her bedroom, holding hands, to talk more privately.

"I was going crazy, Jack. And I had this dream... this..." she takes a step back to look at him in the eyes again, foccusing. "This strange dream. I was so old. And you know what I kept thinking about? Did you know why I lived that long?" he shakes his head, negativelly. "To see you, just to see you, which I never did."

"But, I'm here, now. And you're here. Just us."

He embraces her, digging his fists into her locks of hair as she rests her head on his chest.

"I have something for you." he whispers in her ear, making her look at him once again, loosing his grip. "And I decided to get my ass off of the floor to pick you whenever you were just to give you that."

A frown on her forehead tells him she's not ready. Maybe not. Because she is more than ready, he just doesn't know that yet.

"And, god-damn, I wanted it to be perfect, even before you take this mission. I kept thinking, obssessively, where to take you and the perfect sentence that would make you remember forever and what to wear... You know, Sam, how pathetic is that?" he laughs, mocking himself. "And, shit, I let you go without letting you know,  _really_  know."

"But I'm here now, Jack." she repeats his previous words, her thumbs tracing his jaw. "And you're here. Just us, right? So, tell me, because I'm dying here."

And, for the way Sam stares at him, for the same look she gave that morning before she left him, Jack is certain that she already knows what he was going to give her. But he also knows that he has to say the words, that's why he is there for.

"I really think it'd have been nice to go on my knees and stuff... but you know, Sam, I'd appreciate if we could just drop that part."

She laughes along with him, pressing his arms muscles. Suddenly, his face turns into a concentrated expression. And, if she wasn't who she is, that would look so rare.

"Samantha Carter," her eyes are wide open, as she stared at her cauculus teacher. "Will you marry me?"

She was expecting the words, but listening to him, looking into his eyes as he said them... She wasn't ready for that. She never could be.

"J..Jack. I..." her eyes, cloudy with tears that didn't seem to want to fall.

Everything in slow motion again.

"Samantha Carter, speechless? Oh, man, that's sweet!" he opens his arms, emphasizing his words.

Her tears finally fall, running down her face and wetting her lips as she laughs, and whispers to him: "You have left me speechless before and you know that."

But the silence comes again as they stare into each other's eyes. .

While she collects her words, Jack reaches for his pocket to get the velvet box. He opens it and they look simutaneously at the diamond shinning.

Sam ignores it, though, to put her arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheeks. Her hands caressing his neck.

"I take that as a  _yes_?" And, Jesus, his smirk is so damn proud.

"Yes, Jack O'Neill. Yes." she kisses his ear, on that spot that makes him groan everytime, which he does. "Yes." and she pass her lips over his eyebrow. "Yes." his left cheek. "Yes. Yes."

They smile and he kisses her deeply, while putting the ring around her finger, tasting the salty taste of her tears. Happy tears.

Sam takes a step back to look proudly at her hand.

Jack holds her from behind as they look through the ship glass to watch two stars colliding. She runs her hands through his arms hairs and his thin lips caress her neck, softly. The stars become one, there's a colorful explosion and they both gasp from the view.

"That's beautiful!" she exclaims, looking at colors she couldn't even name surrounding their ship.

"Yes." he says, facing her. "It is beautiful." he traces her face, that is reflecting the colors out there, with his fingertips. "Feels so good to be here. Just..."

"To be here." she finishes for him, nodding, understanding him. "Yes, it is."

Their lips seek. Their hands touch. They hug and she feels him looking at something behind her. His body tensed.

"Jack?"

He stands there, without saying a word and she worries.

"What is it?" she turns to see what he is staring at. "Jack?" she puts her hand over his heart and it appears to be beating out of tiem.

"Is that a cello?" he askes and walks towards it, running his hands over the instrument.

"Yes."

His silent question is obvious to her so she continues.

"I was trying to learn how to play it, in case I... You... We..." she can't finish it. He releases the wood to caress her waist.

"That's okay." he pushes her hair out of her face. "I love the sound of it." his lips press against her temple.

"I know that", she whispers and he questions her with his eyes. "It was supposed to be your birthday present."

And he's the one who is speechless. He just closes his eyes and breathes deep. His forehead touching hers.

Their breaths mingling.

"Goddamn, Samantha." she closes her eyes, feeling his presence there. Finally there. He does it too. "You're gonna play to me when he get home, right?"

Her smile is the answer.

And no other word is said.

He turns her towards the beautiful scene and they  _contemplate_  it together, holding so strong as if they are scared that the other is going to disappear in case they don't. Just one more day, just one more second and they would lose it.

So lost in their own contemplations they never realized that they don't have to worry anymore.

Now they can be just...  _them_. After one hundred days, again.

But nevermore.

 _Nevermore_.


End file.
